Two Men and a Dog

Or,

The pooch, the ol' grump, and I

Our tale begins in the comfort of our modest home. Two men and one Yorkie left on their own over the Labor Day weekend while the main cook and bottle washer gallivants over to Myrtle Beach with the eldest daughter, her family, SIL and her husband. For what sinister purposes one can only imagine.

Friday started out quite normally.......well, with the exception that I, aging jr. birdman of yore, had to cook the pork sausage and over easy fried eggs. Nothing fancy like Brigid’s weekend fare, but as my dearly departed mother used to say, "it fills up a hollow spot".

The weather was very nice for late August, one of those not too hot, not too cool, blue sky mornings that encourages all but the most slothful to be up adoing..... Something, even if it turns out wrong, but fills the human breast with the optimism that great things can be done.

Accordingly I slouched back through the bedroom to the bath for the ritual washing and scrapping. Unusually, I even splashed on some of my most potent aftershave, fake Old Spice in a plastic bottle ( I will never forgive Gillete for taking the American Flag off the Old Spice sailing ship. By damn, if it was good enough for my grandfathers generation they should have left it be. If I were KOTW (King of the World) one of my first proclamations would be to restore the Stars and Stripes to it's rightful place.

Refreshed and energized by the application of aforesaid smelly stuff, I ventured forth about my day, traveling NE-ward toward Toccoa, there to attempt to place a Marquise in the hands of jeweler-to-the-masses, Mr. Goldcraft his own self. My diplomacy failed, as he had found among his meager hoard of crystallized carbon, a perfect fit, dooming my mission before inception. Not altogether a lost trip though as we exchanged pleasantries and other objects of worth, (well, his will be if the check doesn't bounce). In addition I was able to feast my eyes on the vision of Portuguese loveliness that attends his counter, greeting all who wander there with her dazzling smile, long brunette hair, and eyes which invite you to dive in and thereby drown. Oh, blissful death.

Resuming my wandering I eventually arrived at the flea market in Hull, there to solve all the worlds problems in theory and convivial conversation.

And at last returning to my humble abode, and walked into.......

......heat. Heat.......not the coolness for which I exchange pictures of dead presidents with the power company, but humidity and heat which causes your shirt to stick to your rib cage and your boxers to ride up and chaff parts best unrefereed to.

What th' heck, I asked the ol' grump. Being that his ticker only pumps out about 20% of required volume, he thought the temperature was just fine. Oh no, not me. Not for nothing do I amble about from town to town picking up scraps wherever I go. I expect to walk into nothing higher than a comfortable 72 degrees and if it could be reasonably afforded......a few ticks less.

General panic ensued.......although I had brought the ol' grump some of Bill's Barbecue from Dogtrot community, he had already started on biscuits and gravy from 2 days ago, heated in the microwave. This allowed me to check the thermostat, the heat pump fan and finally open the plenum and check the fan there. All spinning merrily away and gulping down wattage to no good effect.

We were reduced to opening the windows, turning on all available fans in an effort to feel a little bit human. (How did we ever survive before A/C??)
Well survive we did, until finally the repairman came and found the culprit to be a wire burned into at the compressor, undoubtedly caused by the small cluster of fire ants found fried crisply about the end of it.

Problem soon resolved and now some 6 hours later the humidity and temperature having been returned to acceptable levels, we turn our attention to the 'Brit Coms' on PBS, our standard Saturday night fare. Peace reigns once again in the KG (kudzu grotto).
........well, except for the pooch who is hiding from a bit of thunder in the distance.

Better go roll up the truck windows.